Night Music
by Dannyblue
Summary: Prequel to "Feast for the Senses." Dean and Vamp!Sam are going through a period of adjustment.


**Title:** Night Music (1/1)  
**Author: **Dannyblue  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Rating: **PG.  
**Spoilers: **All the vampy episodes, but nothing really concrete.  
**Summary:** One-Shot. Gen. Prequel to Feast for the Senses. Dean and Vamp!Sam are going through a period of adjustment.  
**Word Count: **About 1700 words  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatual_, or any of its characters.

**Note:** I have no idea why this story is a prequal. There's nothing really concrete to say this comes before Feast for the Senses. It just _feels _like it does. Hey, talk to the muse.� :D

Sam walked out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following in his wake. Dressed in running shorts and an old t-shirt, he had a towel wrapped around his neck to catch the drops of water from his dampened ends of his hair. But one cold droplet made it past his shirt collar, and he shivered as it trickled down his spine.

Pausing at the foot of his bed, he glanced over at Dean. His brother was sitting at the rickety old table, tucked into the dimmest corner of the room. His "dinner," Chinese take-out in a flip-top box, sat near his elbow. At the moment, he was ignoring it. Instead, he was staring at the screen of the laptop, a frown of concentration puckering his brow.

For a moment, Sam expected Dean to glance up, his trademark smirk in place. To give Sam a hard time for letting himself be picked up at that bar, and not getting back to the motel until after 5 am.

But he didn't.

_And he won't,_ Sam thought, feeling that now familiar twinge somewhere close to his heart. _Of course he won't._

Clearing his throat to get rid of the knot that suddenly lodged there, Sam yanked the towel off of his neck. Swiping it through his barely-damp hair one more time, he tossed it onto the dresser nearby. "You got something?" he asked his brother.

"Looks like," Dean said, still frowning at the laptop. The bluish light from the screen casting his face in planes and shadows. "Three mysterious deaths down in Virginia. Locked doors. No signs of forced entry. The usual."

Sam started across the room, intending to look over Dean's shoulder and see for himself, just like he'd always done. But, as he drew within arm's reach of the table, Dean picked up a stack of papers and held them out to him.

"I printed up whatever I could find online," Dean explained. His eyes darted, lightening quick, in Sam's direction before returning to the computer. "It's not much. Sure as hell not enough to tell us what we might be dealing with."

Sam hesitated for a moment before taking the printouts. "Right," he said, and there was that twinge again, squeezing a little tighter. For the millionth time, he told himself he had to get used to this. That it was going to take a while.

It didn't make the twinge go away.

With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Sam walked over to his bed, and tried not to feel how Dean relaxed a little more with each step he took. Sitting down, the mattress squeaking beneath him just a bit, Sam read.

Dean was right. There was just enough info to tell them something weird might be going on, but not enough to know what the weird might be.

"A night of hard driving," Dean said, "and we should be there by tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He was about to say more when a yawn caught him off guard. Putting a hand over his mouth, he glanced towards the window. A crack in the heavy drapes (standard motel issue) showed him the lightening sky. But he didn't need the visual to know it was almost dawn. He could feel it. Feel the lethargy pulling at his body, making him feel heavy, making his eyelids want to droop. He knew he could fight it if he wanted to. He had, once or twice. But the warm comfort of the bed was calling to him.

He tossed the printouts onto the bedside table. "You turning in?" he asked. Even though he already knew the answer.

And, again, Dean didn't look away from that damned laptop. "Yeah, in a bit. I just want to check a few more things out." he said. Like Sam didn't know what was really going on.

Dean never went to sleep first. Not anymore.

Sighing, Sam pulled back the blankets and got into bed. Disappointment lingered like a bad taste in his mouth, cold and bitter. He tried to swallow it away, but it lingered. Just like always.

Hands behind his head, Sam stared up at the ceiling. Patience was turning out to be harder than he'd expected. Oh, he understood. He did. And, in Dean's place, he'd probably be acting the same way.

_Or worse,_ that little voice in his head said. And, he admitted, that little voice was probably right.

Hell, he should be grateful Dean was even trying.

But that didn't stop him from wanting it back _now_. The way things used to be. How comfortable it was when they were together. The trust that was there, even when they were pissed at each other.

He'd believed things could be that way again. He still did, he guessed. But, more and more, that…time before was feeling like a dream. A really great dream that was so real and perfect, you'd give anything to have it again. But you couldn't get back there no matter how hard you tried. In fact, the harder you tried, the further away it seemed to get.

So, Sam was trying not to try. He was waiting. Waiting for it to just _happen_. Hoping he'd wake up one night and find things were back to the way they were supposed to be. Or at least close. He just had to be patient.

But being patient was really starting to suck.

With another sigh, Sam looked over at his brother. And wasn't surprised to find Dean watching him. After all, Dean was a hunter to his core, and some things were just second nature to him. Like keeping an eye on any possible danger, any potential threat.

And, right now, that was Sam.

Sam looked away first, the twinge in his chest so tight he felt like he was being crushed by it. He turned over onto his side, so his back was facing the room. And his brother. Pulling the blankets up until all that was visible was the top of his head, he closed his eyes.

The sun was rising, and his body was telling him it was time to rest. Usually, he would've dropped off right away. But he couldn't stop thinking about all the ways things weren't right anymore. And how maybe they never would be, no matter how long he waited.

He just wanted to drown out those inner voices, the doubts and fears. So, he focused on the one thing that had remained constant throughout this mess they'd found themselves in.

The sound of Dean's heart beating.

_And wouldn't Dean just __**love**__ to know I can hear it all the time,_ Sam thought with a humorless smile.

Well, of course Dean knew Sam _could_ hear his heartbeat, if he really wanted to. But he didn't know how hard Sam held on to that sound. That…song.

One of the few times they'd really talked about it, Sam tried to explain how, at first, the heart beats of all the people around him had just about driven him crazy. So loud and discordant, like hundreds of drums following their own beat. Thumping and banging and clashing inside his head until he couldn't think. Intensifying the hunger that lived inside him now.

So, he learned to shut them out. To hear them when he wanted, and not hear them when he didn't.

Dean probably assumed Sam shut out his heartbeat along with all the rest. And Sam would let him go right on thinking that. But, the truth was, he'd never shut out Dean's heartbeat. He couldn't.

Which was fine when they were alone in a motel room, or driving in the car. But, at first, when they went out in public…

He remembered sitting in a bar one night, Dean across the room trying to get information from some waitress. Flirting and smiling, and only Sam could tell his heart wasn't really in it.

Not wanting to lose the sound of Dean's heartbeat had opened him up to the dozens of other heartbeats in the room. Like dozens of hands brushing against him, reaching inside him. Stroking that hunger and making it purr, like a cat on the prowl.

He'd been sitting completely still, but his insides felt like they were trying to crawl out of his skin. Whenever someone walked by, he found himself looking at them a little too long. Staring at the pulse beating on the side of their neck. Licking dry lips as he imagined quenching the thirst.

The fact that Dean kept glancing over, like he expected Sam to pounce on some innocent passerby at any moment, didn't help. Instead, those glances just pushed the beast a little harder, made it want to prove he was really the monster Dean couldn't help thinking he was.

For half an hour, Sam sat at that table, hand clutching a beer bottle so hard, he was surprised it hadn't shattered. Common sense told him to shut the heartbeats out. To shut them _all_ out. But he couldn't. Dean's heartbeat was the only thing his brother couldn't take away or hold back. And Sam couldn't let it go. Not even for a moment. Not even to keep from losing control.

Then, something happened. It was like a filter was switched on inside his head. The other heartbeats started to fade. To drift away, like sand caught in a hard breeze. Fading and fading until they were all gone.

All but one.

Now, lying in his bed, buried under the covers, Sam held onto it, let it push everything else away. It had become his lifeline, the one thing that made patience a little easier. Because even when Dean's eyes were cold, his heartbeat was familiar and warm, flowing over Sam like the sunlight he now tried to avoid. Because even when Dean was keeping his distance, pushing him away, Sam could pull that heartbeat as close as he needed, hold it as tight as he wanted.

It surrounded him, a gentle rhythm he could feel deep in his bones. Filling his ears like waves crashing against a shore.

Following him as he drifted off to sleep.

**THE END**

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


End file.
